This Love Is Cold
by 2manyfandomstho
Summary: High school/All human AU. Jack's got a sadistic boyfriend, but doesn't truly realize it. How could the only person that ever showed he cared for Jack, be bad for him? Rated M for sexual content, slash (BlackIce, possible Jackrabbit later), abuse, coarse language. Constructive criticism welcome! Updates random. (Open for title change & cover image)


**Disclaimer(throughout whole story): I own nothing except this ff's plot and possible OC's. ROTG and it's characters do not belong to me.**

**Warnings: Sorry there ended up being Nudity, Swear/Language, Sexual content, Both mental and physical Abuse and.. I might add some in later chapters?**

**This chapter contains all above warnings and if not described then mentioned. **

A tight squeeze on my hand jostles my dreaming state. A part of me tries waking, while another tries to go to the place where colors are shifting and there are whispers edging the boundaries of my ears. I can't help but feel that half of me wants to stay out of the world of the living, holding no responsibilities, and the other knows I must awaken wanting and longing to please and bring happiness to the person I almost subconsciously know is there.

"Jack," A smooth, velvet like voice whispers, laced with an old-English accent. And suddenly its like a rubber band popping back into place as my split self becomes one and my eyes instantly open wide, alert as I register the body that is draped over mine. Long arms loop around my waist sending shudders along my spine, and they tug; asking for something. I allow my body to turn, wiggling in the embrace so that my face is nuzzled into a warm chest and my hands resting against a solid frame. "Pitch...?" I prompt hesitantly, finally looking up to meet my boyfriends pale golden eyes. His unwavering gaze studies me for a while, scrutinizing every flaw probably, still I can't help but feel butterflies in my stomach as his beautiful orbs meet my blue ones.

Finally its time for the routine, or at least routine when I've spent the night with Pitch (and that's been a lot lately), morning kiss. Though we've kissed countless times before, I can't stop my anticipation nor halt that familiar flinch as his mouth meets mine. His tongue prods at my stiff, clamped lips, wanting entrance and I shakily comply, unlocking my jaw cautiously. That's all he needs and in the next instant, lips pressing together so hard that our teeth click together from the pressure (I liked to think a little enthusiasm as well), he's exploring my cavern, slipping around my tongue and sliding over every gap and vein. Slowly my nerves are shaking for a whole different reason. Instead a heat builds up in the pit of my stomach, something coiling tightly and a wanton moan vibrates in my throat, only adding to the familiar coiling as it passes my lips. Pitch's hands travel up from their earlier groping at my waist to grab my face tightly all while maintaining dominance in his ministrations.

When he finally seems satisfied, and I've turned to melted, if not also frightened and quivering, butter in his hands, he pulls away only to come crush me in a possessive hold a moment later and I let out a shaky sigh. My practically vibrating fingers comb through his oil slick black hair as my mind wonders, eyes becoming foggy. I listen to Pitch's breath, his heart beating calmly against my chest having already calmed down from earlier and he murmurs incoherent nothings as he nuzzled my neck. I don't like Pitch's tests, they occur frequently throughout the day, everyday of every week and every month and even years since we'd started dating, almost since we'd known each other, though in a slightly different way. But since I had always belonged to Pitch anyway, even if unspoken, it didn't matter, his tests meant the same.

Even though I should have been used to them by now, and in some form I suppose I am, I haven't fully perfected the art of knowing when something is a test and if I've passed or failed. Sometimes Pitch will react right away if I've done something wrong, striking me down either mentally or physically. Other times he'll wait not saying anything good or bad, especially if we're out in public and I've only said something stupid maybe something that embarrassed him. It'll be later when I've let my guard down, not that it would have helped me either way, and he'll pounce when I'm not suspecting it. Then there's the worse times. I'll be so consumed by fear because nononoJackwhydoyoualwaysmessup and sweat will roll down my neck, being absorbed by my hoodie, and I'll be shaking and I'm so sorry pleasepleaseno and I'll look up, pleading-begging with my eyes to just please forgive me! And his golden eyes will glow warmly with amusement and slight concern, as if he couldn't possibly understand why I was making such a big deal out of messing up? It's fine Jack, calm down, you'll do better next time, it's no big deal, I won't hurt you, I love you. And his hands wont feel so rough when they caress my cheeks, wiping my tears. His breath warms me as he nuzzled my neck, I am fine, I am loved when he envelopes me in a hug. But as soon as that thought flows through my mind and I let myself, trusting him knowing he is right he's always right, relax in his arms, one last shuddering breath escaping me, shaking my frame... That's when he attacks, and it turns out I'd messed up after all, and I should know better and I deserved the pain.

In the beginning things weren't like this, he would hug me, kiss me softly, gently and his love for me showed in every action. I was infatuated with it, I bathed in every glance Pitch spared me. Not that I don't love us being together now... it's just different and I've learned not to mention or really even ponder too much on what was. This is now. Like _right _now for instance, I always say it, ever since the beginning... and Pitch has come to expect those words ringing in his ears every morning we spent together and if not, then every day. "I love you," I say, sliding my hand from his hair to clasp the nape of his neck, fingers twirling in the short locks there.

He smiles and it's a cold, jagged thing, stretching so that his sharp canines flash threateningly. Actually all of his teeth are fairly large, sharp too. I've learned that the hard way, and it has resulted in hickeys and bite marks marring the otherwise pale, smooth shoulders and collarbone. His pale eyes laugh at me with some strange light, something dark taking over his expression and I briefly stiffen before its gone, replaced with a picture of content.

"Of course you do, Jack. Now come on, let's get dressed, you don't want to be late to school, do you?" I consider saying yes, as I despise school and he knows it, but press my lips together firmly to stop myself. It's not a question anyway, more of an uninterested statement as if Pitch knows I won't object and doesn't feel the need to put any real curiosity into his words. I feel as my shoulders slump, both from relief at the calm reaction, as from my submission. Thinking back to his statement, I force myself not to frown. Yeah, I know Pitch barely ever says those words. But I know that he does love me, I can almost feel the memory of how he used to show me that love, as if it's a beam of sun tickling my skin before disappearing behind a bank of clouds. Now he only expresses himself differently, it doesn't mean the feelings are gone.

Yes, I know that most _normal_ relationships aren't like Pitch and I have, but that's what makes it special and I cherish every moment with him. However, sometimes I wish that he might not hit me as hard as he does, even though I know I deserve it. Sometimes I say or do the wrong thing and Pitch has to punish me, but that it's only what I've earned, I know I have to be hurt so that I can learn. I'm always learning, sometimes I forget and am hurt again but that makes me sure not to forget again. One thing I have learned, the hing that I wouldn't even get the chance to forget for it was the thing that had been repeated and wired in my mind since I'd met him is that Pitch Black is always right. "Okay," I whisper, allowing him to pull me off the bed and towards his joint bathroom, as if I had a choice.

-I'M-KIND-OF-A-LINE-BREAK-

I sit on the closed, covered toilet seat of Pitch's small bathroom while he takes his shower. Closing my eyes, I register a drop of still freezing water fall from my wet white hair, landing on my nose continuing its course downward. A small smile traces my lips. Even though it's the middle of fall, edging towards winter, and its pretty cold I refuse to take an even remotely warm shower. Normally Pitch wouldn't take lightly me disagreeing with him or refusing something, but in this case all he ever says is 'more hot water for me'. We've never showered together, I suppose I could say it was because of our different preferences... but we've never even seen each other completely naked.

I'm positive Pitch wants to, but sometimes it still puts this feeling in my stomach, like I'm unwanted. We've slept on the same bed in nothing but our underwear countless of times, but no sex. I'm also positive Pitch wants that, but I'm not sure why it hasn't happened, why he hasn't just taken it yet like he does with everything else having to deal with me. That could possibly branch off into the fact that other than when we're alone (and when we're apart, we know in our heads), we're not actually together, as in boyfriends, going out... publicly.

Pitch doesn't try to hide the fact that he is gay, but neither does he express nor flaunt it. He won't, however, let me reveal my sexuality even if I wanted to. I don't know why, maybe he doesn't find girls as much of a threat to flirt or go after me as guys will, he hates when people show even the slightest whiff of interest in me. Scoffing in my mind, I drag my bare feet back and forth over the black tiled floor, water causing a squeaking sound under my heel. Now I'm just flattering myself and being ridiculous. But I'm okay with not telling anyone, who would I tell?

At first, in the beginning, I wasn't comfortable with being gay anyway, but it still hurt me. I mean, what am I supposed to think, Pitch claiming he loved me but not letting us love each other in front of people who really didn't even matter. But _he_ was allowed to be gay, of course, _he_ could have started going out with anyone else he wanted and no one would think twice about it. He could start a whole new life and I would be forgotten, I would be alone... Shaking myself out of that depressing train of thought, I listen as water sprays from the shower head, hitting against flesh and I blush as my thoughts lead me wondering what some part of Pitch's anatomy looked like. Anyway, even though I'm not one hundred percent comfortable with it, Pitch makes me feel okay with myself, whispering things to me in that voice of his that makes me melt.

Still, sometimes I sense a compressing aura all around me, making me feel as if I'm numbly and mutely drowning in a cloud of nervousness, anxiety, and fear. Not knowing where it comes from, not wanting to blame Pitch or anyone,I more often than not just brush the irrational mood (and irrational thoughts brought along with it) aside as too much thinking or the result of a long, rough day. Getting back to the point neither Pitch's dad nor Phil, my... dad, know. Phil thinks Pitch as only my 'best-friend since Pre-school', but his dad has to at least suspect something but must not mind or care much, as he had never brought it in conversation. Not that Pitch would ever let me talk to his dad alone in the first place...

I'm yanked out of my thoughts as the shower is shut off and one long, muscular arm is reaching from behind the black shower curtain to snatch up an equally black towel. After a few moments, I assume he's drying himself off. I bite the inside of my cheek as Pitch steps out in front of me, towel wrapped around his waist. I watch as spare beads of water race down his tone build, disappearing in the light dusting of hair leading down underneath his towel. A blush blossoms across my face, I feel it traveling down my neck. He hadn't been in the bathroom when I'd finished with my shower and got dressed, only reappearing after I'd went looking for him. This has happened before but I've always come up with ways to conveniently have to leave the room while he's gotten changed.

Rising from my seat, I make it two footsteps towards the door, apparently still too tired to think of even a stupid excuse for leaving. A claw-like grip on my shoulder stops me. "Stay in here, won't you, Jack?" Pitch purrs in my ear, his nose going down to drag along my jaw line, breathing in deeply. A shudder runs through me as I'm pulled back against his cool, hard chest. The top of my head barely skims his collarbone and I crane my head back about ninety degrees to spot the bottom of his chin.

"Wha.. I- I mean, sure!" I squeak awkwardly, flustered, slipping around him to drop down on the toilet heavily. He smiles at me, before turning to brush his fingers over his folded clothes hesitantly. They lay on an open section of a dark wooded shelf that stretches to touch the bathrooms ceiling. Other sections hold soaps, lotions and various toiletries. After a beat he cocks his head, wet hair flopping to his right shoulder and I can almost hear the smirk in his voice. "Hold this a moment?" He asks lightly, whipping off his towel. For a split instant, his tone firm ass is bare, front and center in all its glory. I choke on my tongue, gaping at his smooth skin. Then he spins on his heel, towel swinging in his hand and my eyes lock on to his long, bulging member. A deep, burning heat starts in my face, spreading all over my body and I swear I might die. I look up to see his raised eyebrow, a cocky smirk adorning his face and he waves the towel pointedly in front of him. With a shaking hand I reach out for it, feeling his eyes bore into me. My fingers have barely skimmed the damp cloth, not even thinking why can't he just hang it up on one of the multiple hooks on the door, when Pitch carelessly throws it aside, grabbing my hand instead.

I yelp as his fingers hook around my wrist. I look up at him, confusion evident in my gaze. He smiles reassuringly, coming closer as he slips his hand down to rub his thumb almost absently over my knuckles. But still his hold is tight, and I am confused, and he is completely nude, and I thought he didn't want to be late for school so what the fuck? I open my mouth to ask him something, anything, what's going on? And his other hand slips into my hair, almost petting me as it smooths down my unruly white locks. Now I'm extremely disturbed, and his... arousal is obvious as it demands my attention.

"You love me, don't you, my little snowflake?" Pitch asks lightly, something sharp laying under the surface. My brows crease over my eyes as they flick back and forth from his throbbing digit to his almost pained yet determined expression. "Of course," I blurt out almost instantly as his words register. His smirk grows into something dangerous, as if he was a starving animal that had just found it's prey. "Then you would also love.. helping me out, wouldn't you?" It's a statement, and I wonder how many times I can blush in one sitting as I get his unsubtle hint. Once again my eyes flicker along his length, growing wide as I wonder if it would even fit... His hand tightening at my prolonged silence snaps me out of my thoughts. "Well.. yeah. I um- yes." I stutter, my spare hand twisting the fabric of my pants in my lap as I think how can I deny him? He's my boyfriend, my secret boyfriend, yes, but boyfriend none the less. And he's Pitch. I can't say no to Pitch. I ignore the voice that says I'm only going along with it because I don't want to fail a test. It asks what would happened if I try to deny Pitch, if I stood up for myself against him for once. No, I just want to please him, he's Pitch, that's all. There is no fear influencing my decision, I decide. There isn't anything i need to stand up against.

Also, the smile that blooms across his sculpted face warms me, allows a small smile of my own as his hand grows gentler in my hair. It glides me closer, his other hand helps mine to grasp a hold of him. Again I wonder about the Guinness record of blushes because I swear I could hold that title. The texture feels strange under my hand, very warm and my hand spasms along him as he lets out a low growl. "Um- I don't, I don't really-" I fumble with my words, embarrassed at my inexperience. But who would I have ever done this to? There'd only ever been Pitch. He cuts me off, hand sliding from my hair to tilt my chin up. Though there is impatience, i also see desire and anticipation in his expression. "It's okay, I'll help you, snowflake."

Then his hand is tight on my hair again, his straining member is prodding my pale, thin lips and I nervously comply, unhinging my jaw. It tastes strange, slightly salty, but also sweet from his body wash. Tears sting my eyes as it stretches my mouth wide, ramming into the back of my throat. I choke, looking up at Pitch uncertainly. He gazes at me through hooded lids, lashes fluttering as a moan escapes him. Though I'm choking and feeling that I'm so full on him, there's still more and I wrap a cool hand around the remaining space of his shaft, using the other to brace myself against his thigh as I lean forward. At this another pleased groan escapes him. Hesitantly, I let Pitch control my motions and soon I'm bobbing on him and he's cursing and moaning, nails scratching my scalp. I start experimentally prodding him with my tongue and his moans grow louder. Soon his warm liquid is shooting in my mouth and my nose scrunches as he keeps me there until I swallow, grimacing slightly at the slimy feeling as it makes it's way down my throat. Slowly he pulls away from me, spit dribbling from my lips to stick to his moist and limp head.

A bit of his cum drips from my mouth, smudging my cheeks. His long, nimble fingers brush them away almost reverently. There is a moment of silence, he stares at me with a new light in his pale eyes that I've never seen before. Then I'm being pulled up into his arms, my neck is attacked by his lips, teeth peeking out to leave behind small love bites. My heart starts to beat rapidly in my chest as I must have done it right and this is his reward. A shaky moan leaves me as he licks up my neck to nibble on my ear, one of my more oddly sensitive spots. When he pulls back, a bright smile adorns his face and something akin to pride builds up in me, which is a little embarrassing and I probably won't ever admit it to anyone if they asked. I ignore the other feeling gnawing at my insides. "You did good, my little snowflake." He whispers softly, I think I must imagine the pride there as well, and ruffles my hair.

We both quickly clean up, I brush my teeth again, a little self conscious as Pitch watches me. When he's gotten dressed, his usual black clothing with a knee length trench coat, we make our way downstairs. Pitch drops a few pop-tarts into the toaster and pours us both some milk. I hold back a snicker at the image of him eating the colorful treat while maintaining his dark appearance. Pitch pushes my hood down after I've put it up and I hold back what I want to snap at him. "I like to see your pretty face, snowflake." There's that blush again, and the word pretty echoes in my mind. Then we're hopping into his car, a shiny, black Chevy Impala and speeding off, Pitch ignoring a few stop signs as there's no one else on the road in the outskirts of town where he lives. I sigh, looking out the window, watching the rushing leaves on the wind as they zoom by.

An unbidden thought arises in my mind and I push it down. But it is like the tide coming in, inevitable and sneaky. When I think that I've oppressed it, it comes again with more strength. But I fight it back again because no, I will not doubt Pitch, and Pitch is always right, and there is nothing wrong with what happened, and I wasn't forced at all, there was no fear. I wanted it. A lone tear trails it's way down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away upset with myself. I wanted it, I repeat, holding onto that thought as Pitch takes my hand across the cars middle console. I wanted it.

**A/N: New story but I promise I'll try to work on the others! I'm open to any suggestions, requests, or constructive criticism, I truly would appreciate it be it on plot, spelling/grammar or other. For instance if you notice any change of POV, it would be helpful pointing it out, I wouldn't mind. I'm kinda horrible at sticking to one (Ex:First Person to Third Person)**** I have a scattered idea where I see this going but feel free to request a change or something to be added, at the moment the plot is pretty flexible. For instance Is Jack adopted by Phil? What happened to his family? Will he leave Pitch? I'll consider your suggestion when writing, and keep it in mind. (I'm thinking it could almost be a team effort if you're really enthusiastic(but if that's not allowed maybe I'll open some polls)) Oh, sorry for that awkward bj scene, eh it just came to me, no pun intended. Also on my other fic, people have suggested a beta. If you know a good one, and think I need it, feel free to tell me, I have no idea how to even start looking for one. This chapter was almost 4,000 words! (3,800 but close enough) I'm pretty proud of that, and that's not counting the A/N or disclaimer. But don't expect that too often in the future, they may be a bit shorter depending on my mood. **


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